One of Us is Gonna Die Young
by Twilight Antediluvian
Summary: Oneshot. Nonslash. Mainly Draco’s POV. Draco has a last mission, but what is his message, what is the secret of the Great Harry Potter’s heritage and will Draco ever find peace?


A/N: This is a ficlet I wrote because I heard a song – it's no songfic, though – it's "One of us is gonna die young" by the Ark (yes, "gonna", not "going to"). It inspired me to write – the first inspiration I've had in some time. It took me between 1½ and 2hrs to write, so don't expect too much of it – especially not sense. It's never been run through a beta reading and it's slightly confusing, but I'd say it's readable for the thought (if anyone feels like making a longer fic out of this idea I'd be over the moon if I could read it!). So, while waiting for the ending of Azure Tears to get itself fixed, I give you…

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**One of us is gonna die young**

The man was staring so intently into his eyes, sparkling green and unforgiving. The scene itself was quite disgusting, he realised as he stood there tense and with his wand at the ready. Through the castle window you could spot the disaster outside. Bodies were littered all over the school grounds, friend and foe alike lay dead, dying or wounded, the moans and cries of those still alive were cutting him to the bone. _My friends are out there… forgive me, Pansy, it was too late when I saw you fall_. She had succumbed to a death-curse, but at least there was no need for her to suffer the same agonizing death that so many shared outside the walls – that would have comforted her, had she known of her inevitable death. Pansy would never had accepted growing old. He realised he had been unaware of the green-eyed one for some moments, blinked without letting go of the mask he held up for his own survival.

"So what are you going to do about me now, _Hero Boy_?" he asked with one of his usual sneers, though he couldn't quite put the usual force behind the false malice and repulsion reeking from him. It was simply too much. Harry twitched.

"I'm going to see to it that you don't destroy anyone's life more than you already have, _Death Eater_," the dark-haired boy spat at him, fury shining through his tiredness. Draco shook his head in dismay.

"You don't seem to understand, Potter," he said with a weary smirk, "I may be the son of one, but you can never rightfully call me that. In your pathetic little world of truth and righteousness you painted a picture of evil, but you never really understood the fact that _just because you don't like me I'm not evil_, you sucker." The last two words were added almost like an afterthought as he decided that the confused look in Potter's eyes would keep the little hero from killing anyone until he had unveiled the truth. Stupid Gryffindor prat. He just needed to catch his breath before he could finally tell Harry the last truth. The little Saviour wouldn't believe him, of course, and he himself would most certainly die for telling him – that was why he had volunteered to take the job. He was tired, so tired he would have been lying dead outside already if he had let himself, but he had been driven by a purpose, a last mission before Death embrace him.

"There are a lot of people I don't like that aren't evil," Harry retorted angrily at him, "but if anyone is, it would be you." At that, he shook his head and sighed.

"You're incredible. To be such a powerful wizard, have everyone depending on you to save the world and yet…" he paused to look into those emerald eyes that had always had him fascinated, the ones that had driven him to the brink of insanity once they rejected him. "Don't you see?" He watched Harry's eyes narrow with slight disgust. _Is it possible that the pathetic little prat can't even see what's right in front of his eyes? How can he just _not_ understand?_ He drew breath and begun his lecture.

"In the dawn of time, dark magic was accepted for what it was – the shadow of life, the force of Death needed to balance the sensitive scale of the world. Dark and light wizards alike kept a tight leash on the way their spells were used. But where there is such a rift, there is place for conflict. Some chose not to partake in either side's magic but chose a middle path where neither the cleansing pain of true healing nor could the comfort of true death be found. There, they grew more and more infested with things that should not touch a pure wizard – hatred, envy and the pursuit of power." Now came the dangerous part. Something in Harry seemed to see what the boy could not seem to realise for himself, surely it was wise to trust Harry's instincts to lead him right sooner or later, once pushed to consider the right path.

"Harry…" he breathed, "Three of those prolonged their lives for no one knows how long, but it must have been hundreds of years. They were still for longer than you can count before they in the end crept out of the hole they were hiding in to take place as eleven-year old youngsters on a school fit for their purposes." He paused for half a second as the horrifying realisation begun dawning on the little hero. _It's really sad, but he must know if he is to truly save the world, not to mention me_.

"Your father found a proper young witch, no one could ever really tell whether he loved her or not, but the fact that they both loved you – if for different reasons – is still true. Wormtail fell from them, too weak even to stay a traitor once he was. Sirius Black is an interesting story, considering he went right again." The moment he had uttered the first words of the truth Harry had been ready to jump him, he knew from hours of watching the young boy's emotional turmoil and reactions, and it had been a hair's width from being triggered as he begun speaking of the Black man. Fortunately, it seemed Harry had been too petrified and now he certainly wanted reassurance that his godfather had not been bad.

"As Sirius went to jail the Dementors stole his dreams and happy memories away. It would drive a light wizard mad, as it had been designed to do, but Black was a powerful wizard of a powerful family and they had long practiced solely Dark Magic, which meant it simply left his view clear and focused without the distraction of the pain that resisting his heritage had given him. Remus Lupin just happened to get involved with the wrong group, that's all."

"But…" he heard Harry breathe.

"Your father?" he asked. "Well, he had been a Dark wizard too once, with that blood running through his veins and the blood of a strong witch of the light from your mother's side… well, combined with the ancient blood come back to haunt us, Harry, you truly _are_ the most powerful wizard alive. Your father wished it so and saw to it."

"I don't believe you," Harry whispered as his last words echoed in the empty hall.

"At the moment," he whispered, "you don't have to. Remember – and remember your duties to the world."

"No…" the whisper was even fainter than the one before.

"You will have to. Now, you're quite late at killing me?" he suggested, at which Harry shook his head.

"You have to…" there was a long silence, before he decided that peace would be more important than his pride. He could see it himself, of course, but it hurt worse that way. "_Please_?" he breathed.

"But, Draco…" the dark-haired boy begged him. He sighed, tired to the bone, and saw no reason to keep asking. Heroes didn't kill villains in cold blood, not even when heated by a story as tainted as the one just told.

In a swift movement, the gathered saw Draco Malfoy flick out his wand through his own eyes, saw him utter the spell that would make it possible for those with the proper skills and the proper password to recreate his last memories. There was a scared glimpse in the green eyes, but in Draco's heart, they could feel only peace as he softly uttered the last words he would ever hear.

"Avada Kedavra." With a convulsion, his sight dimmed as pain shot through his limbs before leaving him tightly and securely wrapped up in the darkness of the arms of Mother Death.

Dumbledore watched the darkened recording crystal in silence. From his place behind and a little to the right, Snape whispered coolly.

"I think we should leave him alone now. He always kept telling me one of them would have to die young, that two rivalling entities could never bring the world to peace once they came of age and gained their heritage fully. This is what he wanted." In the silence that followed, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and his Potions Professor destroyed the crystal, exited the room and went to the castle walls, were the funerals for the halfbloods and the muggleborns would be held, along with the few funeral fires for the purebloods that were arranged properly. As the flames took his body at last, the two knew for certain that for the first time in his all too short life, Draco Malfoy would have found peace.


End file.
